


the heart has no bones, you say

by goon



Category: Pitch Perfect (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, doctors who spend more time making out than practicing medicine, shonda rhimes is out to get you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goon/pseuds/goon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beca's on her way to becoming the greatest Cardiothoracic surgeon of her generation. She thinks she can handle a <i>Peds</i> surgeon, thank you very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the heart has no bones, you say

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://veronicapalmer.tumblr.com/post/46145286536/stop-looking-at-me-like-that-like-what). Totally un-beta'ed so please read with caution and feel free to leave corrections if you're so inclined!
> 
> What started out as a Beca/Chloe make out a lot in a hospital fic, turned into a Beca character study-ish type fic, with emphasis on an Aubrey/Beca friendship I believe would've been great if they'd met under different circumstances. The girls are in their late twenties at this point, so they're probably slightly more mature than they were in college. Also, a few lines are taken **directly** from Grey's Anatomy, as I modeled Beca/Chloe after Callie/Arizona.

Beca Mitchell is celibate.

Not by choice, per se. She doesn't wake up each morning in the apartment she begrudgingly shares with her fellow resident, Kimmy Jin and think to herself, _"Boy, I'd really like to refrain from intercourse today"_. It just happened while she wasn't looking, while she was slowly digging herself out of the rubble and the stitches across her wounds became itchier the more she clawed at them. So she stopped trying, simple as that.

It just so happens that things at Seattle Barden are never quite _simple_.

It'd been uncomplicated at first, exactly as Beca typically strived for in all ventures of life. Jesse Swanson was an intern in the same year as she, amiable and charming, yet harmless. He came around to her right away, grinning like an excited kid at a candy store instead of a grown up next to her in line at the cafeteria while she contemplated between goopy lasagna and questionable meat loaf.

"I know you," he said without a greeting. She ignored him, opting for the green section instead. "You're Dr. Mitchell's daughter. I'm Jesse Swanson by the way, same year as you." This Jesse gave her another silly grin, reminding her of an overly eager puppy.

She flashed him the most unimpressed look in her arsenal; the one she threw when she was too tired to find something scathing to say, but he received and shrugged it off with a hearty chuckle.

"Good choice, this meat loaf looks like brain matter," he tried again. It'd be endearing, if it weren't so annoying. "Heard you were planning to do Cardio, how about some hearts of lettuce?"

Jesse nudged her lightly, his broad shoulders shaking with silent laughter. With a raised eyebrow and the same look of contempt, she left him to do his own rendition of the Harlem shake.

When she instinctively looked back while the cashier counted change, Jesse flashed her a thumbs up. When she sat down at an empty table, Jesse sat down right next to her without permission or preamble. When she glared at him, he gave her a wide smile in return.

"Are you a stalker?" she finally asked; dry as the salad she was picking at.

He grinned, "She speaks!"

And that was that.

 

 

-

 

 

Then there's Chloe Beale.

Chloe Beale, who she discovers with annoying frequency, tends to leap past her defenses like an overachieving ballerina. Grand jeté; graceful even in her battle against _Beca's great wall of emotion_ (Chloe's words, not hers).

Chloe Beale, who she initially heard through the grapevine, was some sort of child whisperer. Peds, she had thought, _what a loser_.

Chloe Beale, who must have seen the red tint of her eyes and followed her into a blessedly empty bathroom. The sound of the door swinging shut announcing her arrival before she shifted and said, "Hey, I've seen you around the hospital. You're Cardio, right? I'm Chloe Beale, Peds surgery."

Beca spies through the reflection of the bathroom mirror a tall redhead, directing a completely winning smile at her. It makes her stomach do an ugly flip, which she blames on the alcohol. Tequila is never a good choice when one hasn't eaten since lunch. She turns around and leans against the edge of the sink.

"Yeah, hey," she says, going for casual, hoping this Beale woman doesn't notice how her hand is shaking - just a bit.

Chloe steps closer, if a bit hesitantly. "Are you alright?"

 _Deflect now_ , her brain warns her. "Why do you ask?" _Deflect and run_.

Chloe's grin smooths into a radiant smile. Beca narrows her eyes, looking for that particular _edge_  all surgeons tended to own, but finds nothing, nothing jagged for Beca to consciously cut away before she can possibly cut herself against. It makes her feel weirdly vulnerable, as she watches Chloe's smile warm and soften, how she can't feign indifference as a bulletproof vest, because there is nothing about Chloe that inspires a need to protect herself. It's disconcerting, but mostly annoying.

Chloe's voice cuts through her thoughts. "Where we work, people talk, you know? So for the sake of being honest, I'll just say I know things about you, because people talk, a lot."

The smile Beca doesn't realize she's wearing slips into a mostly natural scowl. "Oh."

Chloe takes another step closer. If Beca wasn't already pressed into the sink, she would take one back. As it were, Beca can only grip onto the edges of the dirty sink like a lifeline. She really doesn't know when the direction of this conversation took such a turn against her.

"I just wanted to let you know. People like you over there, I've heard mentions of sass-mouth but most of them like you. Some like you a lot. Like, _a lot_."

She grins. Beca notices how it makes the corners of her eyes crinkle. This girl is as sincere as anyone she's ever met. "So when you're ready to get back on that horse, there'll be people waiting in line."

Beca almost wants to scoff but can discern from the entirely _too_ genuine display of quick, tiny nods from Chloe urging her to _just believe_ or something ridiculously heartwarming that it would hurt her feelings. And hurting pretty girls who are beaming at her like some goddamn Disney princess incarnate isn't really her style. She shrugs instead, crosses her arms and looks away. "Thanks, I guess."

She hears, if not feels Chloe take another - much more confident - step closer. Beca looks up in time to see crystal blue eyes, impossibly bright and ridiculously close to her face.

"What're you doing?" she manages to spit out before a soft hand is on her cheek, a thumb sweeping across her cheekbone. It's a scarily intimate gesture; one Beca has tried to avoid her entire adult life. Now it's happening with a stranger, Beca finds she scarcely has the will to push away.

"Guess."

The sweet smile Chloe wears so organically drops before she begins to lean in, and Beca is terrified. Terrified of her heartbeat pounding loudly in her ears, of the grip she's suddenly found on the hem of Chloe's flowy blouse. It's silly, how frightened she is to find she still has a heart willing to beat. It's sillier still, to think that if she dropped her hand, she'd be floating in still waters with no shore in sight.

Her grip tightens.

It takes a few heart wrenching seconds - between Beca unwittingly closing her eyes against Chloe's shining baby blues and leaning in - for their lips to touch. Beca can't say it's electric. Her knees don't feel particularly weak nor does she feel faint. In fact, it's a bit anti-climactic, for all the few seconds of anticipation had made the room feel like it was crackling with energy.

No, it's a different sort of feeling altogether. Chloe's touch immediately stills her surroundings. It's magnetic, the methodical way Chloe's thumb follows the trail of her cheekbone to just under her jaw, lightly stroking the line between bone and neck. There isn't much for Beca to do in kind, but her hold on Chloe's shirt becomes impossibly tighter, wrinkling it beyond anything they will be able to smooth out after.

Chloe's lips are gentle, almost kind against her own. The kiss itself so soft she could believe it was an accident if their hands didn't refuse to stop _touching_. Chloe is the one to pull away first, but only after a soft sigh of discontent at separation. The smile that follows after stuns Beca into silence - not that she could've said much anyway.

"Just saving my place in line," she beams, ducking her head adorably before strutting towards the door. A wink and the door swings open and shut after her.

Beca smiles.

 _Shit_.

 

 

-

 

 

Chloe and the dirty bar bathroom happens two weeks after Stacie ups and leaves without so much as a _"it's been real, see ya later, kid"_  . Beca felt weirdly empty as she'd watched Stacie stride away into the dark parking lot. A kid. No control, no word in who stays and who steps out of her life, absolute chaos.

Beca is not surprised it takes only a day before the surprisingly efficient hospital rumour mill treats itself to her private life. She's more surprised it took Amy and her big Australian mouth twenty four hours to spread the news.

She's almost disappointed.

"I know you're some sort of impregnable fortress of solitude, _Mitchell,_ " Aubrey says by way of greeting. Beca sort of hates the way her surname rolls off anyone's tongue, but Aubrey Posen has always spit it out like a poison. It's delightful, really.

Aubrey rolls her eyes, back straight, two coffees in hand. Typical. "But perhaps we should talk about this 'being assaulted by Peds surgeons two weeks after your secret girlfriend's dumped you' business."

It's Beca's turn to roll her eyes. Straightforward? Definitely Posen's game. She makes a grab for the coffee in lieu of what she really wants to do; leave this stupid hospital once and for all. Aubrey let's her take it without a fight. It's almost close to an apology.

"She didn't assault me and leave me alone; I told you that in confidence. Don't go spreading it around, Posen."

"This is Seattle Barden, _Beca_. The rumour mill is akin to that of a high school in a hick town with staggeringly low population and no extracurricular activities." Aubrey takes a sip of her coffee, the corners of her mouth tugging down when it burns the roof of her mouth. _Karma_ , Beca thinks.

"I haven't seen her since and I don't plan to," she says resolutely, as if sheer force of will, will drive away the memory of the tips of Chloe's fingers playing a concerto gently across her skin.

Aubrey nods and tries for another sip, more delicately than before. "She's very accomplished."

Beca's jaw clenches. "How do you know?"

The taller blonde shrugs, but Beca already knows the answer. "I looked into her files for academic purposes." What she refuses to say and only Beca hears is _I did it for you, dumbass_. It makes her grin in that haughty way she knows Aubrey hates. She doesn't comment, merely shrugs again. "Public ones, of course. She's a fellow here, well on her way to acing the boards and becoming an attending within three years of hire. Did her internship and residency at Johns Hopkins, top of her class. It's really, very impressive." 

"I don't care." That's a lie even Cynthia-Rose could pick up.

They fall into a companionable silence after her fib. Beca takes big gulps of her scalding coffee, trying to finish it as quickly as possible, as if the solution to all her problems lay at the bottom of a paper cup.

When they reach the entrance to the resident's lounge, Aubrey stops with a palm against the door and turns towards her. "I took a stroll through the Peds ward."

"You? In Peds? For little old me? You shouldn't have."

"Don't flatter yourself, Dr. Mitchell. I did it to size up the competition. Like daddy says, keep your friends close and keep your enemies closer, so you can murder them in their sleep." The half-truths Aubrey spews to contain her pride are why Beca and her have become such good friends despite their initial antagonism. Neither of them are good with love - only because they were never taught how - but they're both good at pretending not to care, which has to mean something.

Sometimes Beca forgets just how much she loathes Aubrey's father. "Wise words, Dalai-Posen."

"Don't sass me. She's competent, is all I'm saying," Aubrey says, a stern look of something like affection crossing her expression before it's washed away by her signature Posen pride. She twists the door knob and enters the lounge, not bothering to hold the door for her best friend.

Beca thinks it's her way of saying, _I approve_.

 

 

-

 

 

No one saw Stacie arriving, not even Aubrey.

After her fiasco with Jesse, she'd felt like the ground beneath her was always threatening to give - like Jesse had taken root without her permission and left holes she couldn't fix in the foundation when he went away.

Technically, Beca knows, he never did. She still saw him in the halls frequently enough, laughing quietly with Benji Applebaum (trauma surgery, no one knows why or how) and generally trying to avoid her space. He still smiles at her when they make eye contact, is kind to her during surgery and rounds, considerate in their post break-up as everything Jesse did always was.

Beca understands why they didn't last - never really had a chance to thrive - in a way Jesse doesn't. She loves Jesse, _loved him_ for who he was to her. He was easy to care for, simple in his affection for her, anyone could see how he lit up when she entered a room, and it made him too easy to fall into. Letting him fill up the space beside her was nothing she had to force or try for, ignoring the voids he left vacant was muscle memory from a childhood she'd rather not think about.

It was comfortable - if stationary - until two years had passed and he realized he couldn't quite come to terms with being unable to fit her perfectly into his puzzle. When it became clear she could not and did not know how fight for him, they'd broken up.

Not four months after Jesse had Jessica on his arm (Aubrey had the audacity to _laugh_ at that), Stacie sauntered into her life and took up the void in much the same way. Before Beca had a chance to decide for herself what the difference between dating a boy and a girl was, Stacie was gone.

She's always been smart, so the difference came to her swiftly enough.

Not that it mattered, when they both left regardless.

It was a disturbing pattern.

 

 

-

 

 

She won't let it happen with Chloe.

She's decided before she "accidentally" runs into Chloe again, laughing in front the nurses’ station at something Amy's said - that fink. Taking shelter behind a rack of medical supplies, she pretends to sift through it at an angle she knows Chloe won't catch, while covertly peering at her. She's beautiful, which Beca assumes is the usual, and she giggles every time Amy says something funny, throwing her head back enough for Beca to follow the line of her pretty throat.

Beca squints, spotting cartoon animal patches on her lab coat. She rolls her eyes - _Peds_ , honestly.  Before she can think of a text mean enough to send Aubrey, Chloe lights up the hallway with a grin and rolls away, literally, on heelys. Oh _brother_.

Once the redhead is out of sight, Beca springs into action. Amy spots her coming down the hall and quickly looks down, doing a bad job of pretending to fill a chart whilst tracking her movements. She taught the traitor that trick! Instead of reminding her when she gets to the station, Beca leans against it and says menacingly, " _Amy_."

Amy's head shoots up, briefly glancing to her left and right - acting as if she hasn't been watching Beca approach her like a lion hunting it's prey - before she grins nervously at Beca. "Hey girl, what's hoppin'?"

"Oh nothing, just wondering what you and Dr. Beale were chit chatting about."

Amy's nervous grin dissolves into a knowing smirk accompanied by a raised eyebrow, making Beca's stomach twist. "We were talking ab-"

"Hi Beca," Chloe unknowingly interrupts. Beca spins around so quickly it's almost like she has Chloe's ridiculous heelys on, except she almost loses her balance. Chloe reacts quickly though, steadying her with a kind hand on her elbow.

"Got surgeries coming out of my beautiful butt, see you ladies later!" Amy practically screams. She grabs her charts and makes a quick escape, mumbling something suspiciously like, " _vertical running, I am vertical running_ ". Whatever that means.

She can't really concentrate on figuring out what Amy was about to say though, because Chloe's still got her hand on Beca's elbow and the warmth of it seeps through her lab coat and heats up the pit of her stomach. She snatches it back haphazardly, immediately feeling like an a-hole when a flash of hurt appears in Chloe's eyes (or what Aubrey has recently referred to as " _the genetic's jackpot_ "), drowned away hurriedly by a smile.

"Forgot my charts, but fancy seeing you here," Chloe says with a teasing smile, grabbing the binder Amy left behind. It's slightly different than the one on display only seconds ago; clearer, a little more whole, a real one.

Beca bristles, distinguishing minute differences between one smile to another is not one of her hobbies, she has to stop. "At our shared place of employment?" she quips.

"I just thought maybe you were avoiding me," Chloe says blatantly. A sadder smile this time, the minor drooping at the corner of her eyes confirms that much. It makes Beca mad, how much she wants to make Chloe grin like she did in that dank, dark bathroom. Perhaps with a kiss.

She blinks hard to relieve herself of the imagery, to little success. She settles with stuttering, "I... I wasn't, honestly."

"It's alright, Beca. I actually wanted to apologize," Chloe says, looking into her eyes as if direct eye contact wasn't the devil's invention. Beca tries not to squirm. "It was probably a little crude of me to attack you in a bathroom. You don't have to think anything of it, you're totally off the hook." Beca can't help thinking this is actually _Chloe's way_ of getting off the hook, herself.

"What do you mean?" she asks, taking a tiny step closer. She's aware of the nurse on the other side of the station who's unable to hear them but probably recording all their actions to report to her fellow gossip-mongers.

Gently - to avoid Beca siccing herself on Chloe like some dog, Beca assumes - Chloe pulls back and slowly puts a hand on her arm. "I mean, we should be friends."

Beca feels a small bubble of something akin to rage rise in her throat. She shakes Chloe's hand off and reaches for her wrist instead, which Chloe let's her take. She tugs them towards an on-call room and slips into it without knocking. Thankfully, it's empty.

"You kissed me. In a bar bathroom. That's not exactly how prime friendships begin, Dr. Beale." Beca says once the door is closed and locked.

"It was kind of a mistake, I don't date newborns."

What does that _even mean_? "Did you just call me an infant?"

"That's not what I meant. Beca, I spend all day with babies and toddlers, I try not to do that in my private life. Amy told me your history and you've got things to figure out that I really can't help you with, so I think we should be friends." Chloe almost looks like she's struggling with what she's conveying. This indecision looks unnatural on her, Beca thinks, confidence comes off her in waves.

"Because I think you're awesome," Chloe adds, like it's some consolation to a speech that basically encompasses " _it's not you, it's me_ " down to a perfect art form.

She doesn't say anything in response and Chloe does not look expectantly at her, like Jesse, or even Stacie used to. Instead, Chloe takes her left hand and squeezes softly. It's the right thing to do - for whatever reason - the anger simmering low in her belly dissipates completely at the contact. This was her plan, after all. She didn't want this with Chloe. She didn't want to let it happen again.

Except now Chloe's rubbing soft circles into the back of her hand. Maybe she doesn't even notice, because they're kind of just staring at each other, holding on like the thought of letting go never occurred to either of them. It hits her very suddenly - she _likes Chloe_ ; she _really, really likes Chloe_.

So she follows her instincts.

She runs.

 

 

-

 

 

Sometimes it doesn't feel like Beca chose to specialize in Cardio, sometimes it feels like Cardio chose her.

In her youth - pre-divorce, pre-step-monster, pre-everything - there was yelling; awful, terrible things her mom and dad screamed at each other when Beca had been tucked in and kissed on the forehead. Those were the days Beca would _let them_ kiss her. Those days she'd left far behind.

She doesn't remember what they yelled about or how long they yelled for, only remembers crawling under her sheets, pressing her hand against her chest and counting the beats it took for her heart to calm. There were no siblings for her to soothe, none for her to take comfort with and she's thankful for that now. One less person she cared for meant one less casualty in the long haul.

Only her heartbeat was honest. It would never abandon her because it beat soundly behind her ribcage, in her control. It was sanctuary, the rhythmic pumping supplying her body with blood, protecting her while she gave it life. The kind of relationship that meant she gave as much as she took.

It taught her to seek comfort in measures that would not waver, pulses steady as her own. She sought people like Jesse, even Stacie, because they were predictable, same as the beating of her heart.

Somewhere along the way, along the success and the contentedness, she simply forgot.

Hearts can fail, too.

 

 

-

 

 

Something unexpected happens shortly after Beca's stopped constantly thinking about Chloe and the on-call room. The world is out to get her but it's Chloe who finds her in an elevator.

She slips in right as the doors close and smiles at her, the real kind, Beca hasn't forgotten.

"Hey," Chloe says.

Her immediate reaction is to get out, away from the redhead who sits at the center of all her problems, but the elevator has already begun to descend, so her stomach might as well follow suit. "Hey," she replies, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her worn out jeans, _to avoid touching Chloe_ is the part she keeps to herself.

"So, today's been pretty awful," Chloe starts, pulling her purse further up onto her shoulder. She looks tired, even if she's still beaming at Beca like she's a flashlight just fitted with new batteries.

Beca's dark, _she gets it_ , so she butts in, "We don't have to do this, we really don't."

Chloe gives her a look, one that either says _please listen_ or _why did you murder my puppy in cold blood?_ "We're friends," she says.

"We're not."

The hurt flits over her expression for only a second but slowly enough for it to sting at Beca, like lemon juice in an open wound.

"I'm not ready to be your friend," she amends, because if Chloe frowns at her once more, she'll be forced to kiss it away.

"I was wrong," Chloe says loudly, turning to face her fully. It's unexpected and throws Beca in for a loop, the only thing she knows how to say then is: "What?"

"If you had let me finish my story, Beca. I was going to say I was wrong and that I jumped to conclusions and that I'm sorry. I like you, so if you'd like, I want to take you out for dinner."

They're facing each other now, Chloe is taller by a few inches yet manages to blink up at her, a hopeful twinkle in her eyes. Beca's definitely not scared, just shocked. It's a mystery then, how fast she runs when the elevator doors ding open.

 

 

-

 

 

_Chop Chop Chop._

"You're moping." Aubrey states the obvious, as is her forté. Beca rolls her eyes to dismiss the claim, as is hers.

"I'm no-"

_Chop Chop Chop._

"You're moping," she repeats, drilling the words harder than before, the hint of disciplinarian she is so wont to cast herself in creeping around the edges of her voice. "You're moping and it's _distracting_ , Beca."

" _Aubrey_ ," she emphasizes, just in case the blonde doesn't understand the severity of her situation. In reality, she knows it's unnecessary, Aubrey always understood her best. "She called me a baby. She's a pedophile, according to her own logic."

_Chop Chop Chop._

Aubrey looks at her pointedly, the knife she's using on the lettuce for their lunch stills and she brandishes it much too close to Beca's face for comfort. "Grow up," she says, flicking the blade at her in warning.

"So you think I'm a baby too?"

"Of course not."

"Then what?"

Her friend sighs, dropping the knife altogether, seemingly needing all her concentration to get this through Beca's thick skull. "What I'm saying is, we're not those little girls anymore, Beca."

She swings her feet, carefully glancing at Aubrey through her peripherals, who silently turns back to their lunch and continues.

_Chop Chop Chop._

Beca shifts on the counter she's sitting on, the one Aubrey told her explicitly not to climb onto and says quietly, "I know that."

"Good," Aubrey responds in kind.

_Chop Chop Chop._

"You're kinda scary, you know that?" Beca teases, trying to peel away whatever horrible silence has fallen over them. It's been a long while since she's felt anything but at home with Aubrey. It feels dangerous, like a step on a rickety bridge she's not sure she can cross safely.

_Chop Chop Chop._

"So are you," she says with finality, more earnestly than needed, throwing a strange look at Beca before relinquishing the knife into the sink and tossing a bunch of vegetables into a bowl on her right. "Lunch is ready."

Beca shrugs, grabs the bowl from Aubrey's outstretched hands and brings it into the living room. All the tension in the kitchen rolls away when Aubrey yells from the kitchen, "Red or white?"

"Red, duh," Beca yells back, flopping onto the couch and forgoing utensils to eat her salad just because Aubrey would hate it.

 

 

When the conversation comes back to her a few days later, she marches right into the chief resident's office to probe Aubrey for answers. The blonde already looks like she knew this was coming. Well, of course, she's _Aubrey._

"I meant," Aubrey begins, already looking bored with Beca's predictability. "That you like Chloe. So go get Chloe, because she's already said she likes you too."

"Chloe said I was a newborn."

"You are, in more ways than one, clearly," Aubrey snaps, not without an affection probably only Beca could recognize. There's a strange noise in her head, one that's followed her from Aubrey's kitchen all the way to the chair she slumps into now.

_Chop Chop Chop._

"When I said we weren't little girls anymore, I sort of meant, maybe you should get your head out of your ass, Beca. It's not a hat."

"That's rude."

_Chop Chop Chop._

"You stomping into my office without knocking is rude, I'm being honest. Chloe is the first person in a really long time you've made an effort to act like you _don't_ like and that means you care about her, it means you like her."

"That's no-"

_Chop Chop Chop._

Aubrey throws the pen in her hand onto the desk. It lands with a loud thunk. "Shut _up_ , Beca. Yeah, she might leave or you might leave or the ground might swallow you up or you'll get struck by lightning so you might as well try to be with her before she jets off to who knows where to save orphan children from disease. She's not going to be easy like Jesse or Stacie or whatever but you like her, she likes you, get over yourself. I'm tired, so please, for my sake. _Grow up._ "

Beca can almost see the steam coming off the top of her head. There's silence, not the oppressive variety but the kind accompanied by a rhythm that felt heavier each time it sounded, pressing down into her chest. This silence is absence of sound, lending itself to clarity instead, or at least as clear as anything in Beca's life will ever be. She grins.

"You're kinda scary, you know that?"

"It's a gift," Aubrey drawls, smiling back at her with relief.

 

 

-

 

 

Chloe Beale is tired.

She's tired from her previous day of being a hardcore Peds surgeon, she's tired of screwing up her love life because she's so goddamn stubborn and she's definitely still tired from pretending she didn't like Beca Mitchell, because she did and does, a lot.

But she's messed that up before she had a chance, so ha.

She slinks into the lounge at eight am, hoping Cynthia-Rose will not be there to give her sympathetic looks and pats on the back. She's tired of those too.

"There's something in your locker, m'dear," Cynthia-Rose practically sings when she spots Chloe. Her tone is playful, a good but gentle whack on her shoulder to wake her up.

"What is it?" Chloe asks without looking, she just hopes it's not a prank.

"Oh, you'll see," her friend sings again, grinning wickedly at her before leaving the room.

Chloe stares after her, shaking her head before finally mustering the energy to roll over to her locker. Ah, the beauty of heelys.

The deodorant and lab coat she expects to find are there along with an unfamiliar sign, the kind that hangs above washroom doors to indicate female or male. This one reads female, or rather, a crudely drawn picture of a stick figure squatting over a toilet. Was this Cynthia-Rose's idea of a joke?

She shakes her head, smiling at her friends attempt to cheer her up and frowns again when she sees a small envelope that must've been sitting underneath the sign. Chloe opens it with caution, pulling out a small piece of stock paper.

It reads: 

_Dinner tonight? Your treat, since you so brazenly rejected me. I'm a goddamn catch! 7:30PM, I'll meet you in the lobby, if you'd like. PS. the sign is a gift to remind you of our first meeting, just in case you've forgotten the lady you kissed in a dirty, bar bathroom. - Beca._

Her number is printed neatly in the corner. Where Chloe would've added hearts and smiley faces; Beca's is direct and almost _droll_. It's perfect.

Chloe almost drops the paper in excitement, then smiles so wide she feels the strain in her cheeks. She grabs her phone without thought and texts Beca before her second chance can be repealed.

_7:30 it is :)))))))))_

She hopes the smiley face isn't overkill, even if she wants Beca to know just how happy she is.

Beca's reply comes not a minute after Chloe's sent her confirmation.

 _Good._ It simply reads. Chloe's curiousity gets the better of her, so instead of throwing her phone into her purse like she should, she sends another message.

_What made you change your mind?_

A good five minutes go by while Chloe sits staring blankly at her iphone. She shouldn't have sent it, she thinks, almost wanting to slap herself in frustration. The buzz from her phone snaps her out of it and she glances at the screen.

_I grew up._

Chloe beams.


End file.
